


it's such a shame for us to part

by gayschlatt



Series: do not speak as loud as my heart [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Possible Character Death, Smoking, Swearing, Terminal Illnesses, can be gen or slash, depends how you look at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayschlatt/pseuds/gayschlatt
Summary: “Anyways, why exactly should I trust you?” He asked.“You have no one left.” Schlatt deadpanned, and Dream wasn’t expecting that answer.Or: Schlatt comes up with a plan. Dream realizes something too late.(Title / series name based off of "The Scientist" by Coldplay.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: do not speak as loud as my heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013955
Comments: 13
Kudos: 140





	it's such a shame for us to part

**Author's Note:**

> No, I am not shipping the real people, this is about the personas they roleplay as in Minecraft.
> 
> Content warnings are in the tags, but I'll post them here too for the people who skip them:  
> \- Drinking  
> \- Smoking (cigars)  
> \- Swearing  
> \- Mentions of death / murder  
> \- Mentions of terminal illnesses

It was always something with Schlatt. 

Today, it was some kind of agreement he wanted Dream to sign.

Dream reluctantly stood in front of a wide mahogany desk. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, he noticed, and when Schlatt closed his curtains he watched all of the dust in the room lazily fly around. This wasn’t the only detail that struck him as being unusual. Usually, there was a guard at the door to Schlatt’s chambers, but neither Quackity nor George were standing there when he came in. Manburg almost felt empty, abandoned, save for the President, who had requested his presence today.

Dream had a feeling that was part of the reason he was here.

Schlatt finally finished shutting every window, standing behind his desk. “Do you know why I’ve called you here today?” He said, voice suddenly serious.

“There’s no one else here, you can stop acting.” Dream sighed.

“Me? Acting? No. I would never.” Schlatt, instead, waved him over, and Dream stepped closer, legs touching the edge of the desk.

“I’m only acting because we have an audience, Dream.” He reached towards Dream’s face — Dream’s heart jolted as warm skin brushed up against his cheek — and yanked the communicator out of his ear. 

Dream blinked a few times, trying to process why and how he just let that happen. He opened his mouth to protest, but Schlatt had already turned the device off and shoved it into his pocket. “No, you won’t be needing that.”

“I was just recording.” Dream muttered. Schlatt sat down with a sigh, gesturing towards the other chair. Dream sat down roughly. It hadn’t even been five minutes and he was already getting irritated.

Schlatt smirked, a lazy smile that showed his teeth, and Dream wondered if hybrid teeth grew back. He wouldn’t knock Schlatt’s teeth out — as tempting as the thought was — because he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of winning, of knowing he had upset Dream in the little game they played.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Schlatt, despite his attitude, didn’t look as ferocious as usual. He looked kind of tired. The bags under his eyes were deeper than usual, and his unshaven face made him look older. He reeked of cigar smoke, and Dream felt a pang of … something, for the man sitting in his dusty office all alone. He couldn’t quite place it.

“Are you done staring at me, Dream?” Schlatt said, and Dream sat up straighter. “I know, I know, you can’t help it.” He didn’t seem as enthusiastic in his egotistical comments, either, Dream noticed, but it still made him flush.

“So, can I read this thing, or …” Dream sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, and Schlatt was already shoving a book into his hands. He read, thankful to have something to hide his burning face.

And then he read again. And then again. _What?_

“You want me to kill you?” Dream repeated the final sentence in disbelief.

“That’s the plan. Quackity was supposed to help me with the final draft, but …” Schlatt let his sentence trail off, reaching into his desk for a cigar and a lighter.

“Aw, your wife left you?” Dream teased, but instantly dropped it the second he saw Schlatt’s look. He was tiptoeing along a line that neither party had ever dared to cross, a line that turned their light bickering into something dangerous. Tactful as ever, Dream changed the topic.

“Anyways, why exactly should I trust you?” He asked.

“You have no one left.” Schlatt deadpanned, and Dream wasn’t expecting that answer.

Dream bit the inside of his cheek, taking a breath to steady himself. Schlatt wasn’t wrong, and that upset him more than anything. He hated it when he agreed with the other man. He would give him an inch and Schlatt would take the entire ruler and frame it on the wall behind his desk. 

“I could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, well, everyone’s alone when they die. So there.” Schlatt lit his cigar and stuck it in his mouth, exhaling deeply. 

“What does that have to do with — no, you know what? I have friends. You have nothing but enemies. You’re more alone than me.”

“Name one friend you have, Dream. And not someone scared of you.”

“Sapnap.” Dream answered immediately, and Schlatt shook his head, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth.

“He and Karl are part of Manburg now.”

He didn’t know that. Dream frowned. “Then … Bad.” 

“Nope. The Badlands are only your friend if you’re losing. Next.”

“Wilbur?” Dream tried, but even he knew that wasn’t right. Wilbur was just using him to get back at Schlatt, he wasn’t that stupid. “No, Tommy.”

“Tommy only cares about Tubbo right now, and Tubbo is friends with everyone, so that doesn’t count.” 

_Punz … No. Ninja? No. The guy had left months ago. Eret ... Ponk ... Fundy?_

He was right. Dream had no one left. Not even George … 

Fuck, he hated when Schlatt was right. 

“So, what was the point of that, exactly?” Dream groaned, rubbing his eyes with one hand, feeling a migraine coming on. 

“I’m saying you have no other choice. But … my offer.”

Dream read the paper again. 

“You really think this is going to work?”

“Dream,” Schlatt said, serious once more — but it wasn’t his acting voice. “I’m a dead man anyway. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“I …” Dream’s mouth was suddenly dry. He would kill Schlatt. He would win. He would be the hero, and everyone would forget why they hated him. He could even give Wilbur the materials to rebuild his stupid wall. 

But, some part of him protested. He didn’t want to kill him. Even if he would win … Dream shook his head, focusing back on the document. There was room for things to be added, for a proper plan to be drafted. 

The hybrid slowly got back up from his desk, watching Dream from across the room. He opened a cabinet, closed it, and set something glass down on top of it.

 _Might as well sign it,_ Dream thought, grabbing a pen off of Schlatt’s desk. He hurriedly scrawled his name down and returned to his thoughts. Schlatt puffed on his cigar with a low chuckle.

“What?” Dream turned around to stare at him.

“You like my plan!” Schlatt said, happily. “I didn’t think you would.” For the second time, Dream’s heart clenched and unclenched like a fist. 

“No, I don’t.” He lied. “I just … have some ideas. I can work with this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Okay, okay. We need more people on your side to … make it believable, right?”

“Right.” The hybrid agreed, coming back with a bottle of something expensive looking. He set an empty glass in front of Dream. “Drink?”

“Please.” Dream held the glass up as Schlatt poured some of the amber liquid into it. Just a shot’s worth. He raised his eyebrows at him, and Schlatt poured it to the brim with a roll of his eyes.

It was whiskey. Dream grimaced. “Got any ice?” Schlatt opened another drawer, and a few ice cubes were dropped into his drink. 

“Any more ideas?” Schlatt asked, sitting back down with his drink. 

“A few.” He took a long sip, savoring the bitterness, the hints of vanilla. They would question if Dream was telling the truth, of course, but what would he have to gain from lying to them? Well, many things. He could tell them someone was an impostor, make them distrust each other. It would be so easy to manipulate them.

Yes, it seemed like this would work. But …

Schlatt set his now empty glass down. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You tell me something first.”

“What is this, twenty questions?”

Dream set his drink down. “No.”

“Then? What is it?”

“Why are you dying?”

Schlatt froze for a moment. His brows furrowed, and he took a long drag on his cigar before responding with a billow of smoke. “Muscle atrophy. Hybrids don’t live long, you know that.” 

“Right.” Schlatt may look like a twenty-something-year-old human, but he was very old for a ram. They only lived, what, twelve years? Combined with a human lifespan? Merely double that, if anything. It was a concept Dream admittedly didn’t understand himself. Fundy had tried to explain to him, once, but ended up awkwardly dodging the question of why he would still be alive, as foxes only lived for five years at the most.

And then … “Is there anything I could do?”

Schlatt blinked. “No.” He looked down at his empty glass, not at Dream. He was lying.

Dream stood up, a stack of papers flying off Schlatt’s desk with the sudden movement. “I can give you immortality.”

“Dream, I—”

“I don’t care if you’d destroy the world with it. I want to.”

“Dream. Listen to me—” Schlatt slowly rose to his feet, palms up placatingly. 

“No! You listen to me!” He raised his voice, suddenly angry. “It’s n-not—” Dream shakily took a breath. Why was he so upset over this? It wasn’t like a glass of whiskey would mess with him, no, he had to be at least three drinks in to get tipsy. “It’s not fair.”

“It never is,” Schlatt muttered bitterly, bending over to pick up the papers on the wooden floor. 

“I—This isn’t right.” Dream paced around the office, hands closing into fists as he tried to make sense of his jumbling thoughts. He would kill Schlatt, he would win, but _why?_ Why did he have to? “There has to be another way.” He said, mostly to himself.

“There isn’t! You don’t think I tried?” Schlatt snapped, and Dream watched him have to use the desk to help him back up. The little voice that had been doubting everything, the thing that had been making his heart skip around, broke apart at that moment.

“I can’t—” His breath hitched in his throat, the realization making his chest tighten. “I can’t lose you, Schlatt, I—” He was alone, Schlatt had oh so kindly reminded him at the beginning of their conversation, but … He wasn’t. He had Schlatt.

He was going to live forever, Dream had realized one day. He would watch his friends grow old and die, and he would stay untouched by time long after they had left. He had been this world’s God — if you could call him that — and God had always needed an opposition, a Satan, something to balance the good out. Life got boring otherwise, boring and meaningless.

Wilbur was close for a moment, with L’manburg, but like everyone else, had let Dream win. When all you got from people was their praise, or their worship, or their endless loyalty, what was the point? Anything he did pleased them, the good and the bad. No one else could be his equal, no one else would get in his face, make him think about his next move. Techno never liked playing that role, and George had gotten frustrated trying to understand what Dream wanted from him.

It was only when Schlatt showed up that something changed. He was egotistical and snarky, and a real bastard when he wanted to be. But he was the only person who dared to think otherwise. He had defied Dream at every turn, he had knocked over all of his plans with ease, and Dream was so happy. He loved it. He loved the challenge, he loved the little game they played. He … _he loved Schlatt._

He barely registered Schlatt’s arms around him. His grip was weak, but Dream could do the clinging for both of them. It took him a minute to realize he was crying, tears staining the collar of Schlatt’s suit. The other man murmured in his ear as he sobbed, hands slowly stroking his back. “It’s okay, I got you. I’m here, Dream.”

 _It might be the last time we ever hug,_ Dream thought numbly. He didn’t let go, even after he had calmed down. And Schlatt let him hold on for as long as he needed.


End file.
